True Lies

by Ingrid Weaver

  The fact that she was truly here was difficult enough to accept. The knowledge that she had come armed was like a sudden fist to the gut. How? Why? Bruce thought of the gun that was concealed beneath his jacket. But he didn’t reach for it.

  “You've always come through for me, Emma. Don’t let me down now,” Simon urged. “Help me get away.”

  Her chin trembled as she shifted the bow to her hand. She was silent for a moment, balancing the weapon on her palm. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and unsteady. “Why did it have to be you, Bruce?”

  He felt his control slipping. “Put it down, Emma. It’s all over.”

  “Do you know him?” Simon asked incredulously.

  She nodded. Her hair was wet and wild, slicked down against her head as it had been in another time, another place. Another disaster. “Yes,” she answered, her gaze never leaving Bruce. “I know him.”

  “Your sister and I have been...” Bruce hesitated on the word. “We've been working together.”

  “I don’t believe it. Emma, you’d never help a cop.”

  “I did it for you, Simon. I had to get you away from McQuaig. I couldn’t let them hurt you.”

  “Emma, how did you get here?” Bruce asked. “Why did you come?”

  Her breath hitched on a laugh that held no humor. “I broke out of jail, I stole Haskin’s car. I called Xavier’s number, but then I had to come to make sure you got the message. I did it for you, Bruce.” Another tear joined the raindrops on her face. “I couldn’t let them hurt you, either.”

  “You were the one who tipped Epstein?”

  She nodded again.

  “Your warning probably saved a dozen lives. Xavier had us move in the moment Epstein radioed. We all owe you—”

  “You warned the cops?” Simon cried. “But you didn’t warn me? Do you know what you've done?”

  Her fingers trembled as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. “Yes. I know exactly what I've done.”

  “It’s not too late,” Simon said quickly. “I still have a chance.” He lunged toward her but Bruce hauled him back. “Emma, for God’s sake, it’s just the three of us here. Do something before someone else comes around. You got in, you can get me out. They've arrested McQuaig. I saw him being put in the wagon with the others. They won’t bother us anymore. Please.”

  “You'll get a light sentence if you cooperate with us, Duprey,” Bruce said. “I already explained that to you.”

  “Emma! We're all that’s left of the family. Don’t turn your back on me now. Prison killed our father, and seeing him there killed our mother.”

  “I know that. I can’t change it.”

  “Then don’t let me down, sis. I love you.”

  She pressed her lips together, inhaling deeply through her nose. “I love you, too, Simon.”

  Sudden anger flashed through Bruce as he watched the effect Simon’s pleas were having on Emma. He turned, shaking Simon roughly by the arm. “Stop it,” he gritted. “Can’t you see you're tearing her apart?”

  “Shut up, cop. You don’t know anything.”

  “I know that your sister’s loyalty is more than you deserve. Her love is unconditional, but you're using it as a weapon.” He shook him again. “Do you have any idea of what she’s done for you, of the chances she took and the danger she faced? If you had only a fraction of her courage you’d never have gotten yourself into this mess to begin with. Grow up, Duprey. It’s past time you faced the consequences of what you've done and let your sister go.”

  “Bruce.”

  The sudden ice in Emma’s tone made him snap his head around.

  There was no longer any indecision on her face. Her eyes were narrowed, her jaw clenched with determination. She widened her stance, angling one foot over the threshold of the room and aligning her body. Smoothly she drew an arrow from the quiver. “Move over, Bruce,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  No. He wouldn’t believe it. After everything they had gone through together, everything she had come to mean to him, she wouldn’t do this. She’d never hurt him, of that he had no doubt. But it couldn’t end like this, could it? “Emma.”

  The arrow wasn’t one of the blunt-tipped target practice kind. Light gleamed from a trio of spiraling metal blades. With deadly, purposeful grace, she nocked it and raised the bow.

  His gun weighed heavily against the small of his back. Echoes of the last time he had faced that bow shimmered through his mind. Every nerve tingled with the urge to move, to act. If he rolled to the side he’d be able to draw his weapon and fire a shot that would take control of the situation. But he knew he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. All the training and the years of experience had cracked and fallen away, all the defenses he’d clung to were gone.

  He had no defense against her. He never had.

  Her wet shirt molded to her lithe, athlete’s body as she hooked two fingers on the string and drew the bow.

  It was too late to plead, too late to beg. The angry words he had flung at her when he’d left her this afternoon weren’t the ones he’d wanted to say. Would it have made a difference if he’d told her he loved her? Or would it have made her cheeks even wetter with the moisture that wasn’t from the rain? Her love for her brother was unconditional. But so was Bruce’s love for her. He dropped his hands to his sides and moved away from Simon. She had made her choice.

  He never saw her release the arrow. It happened too fast to see. He felt the kiss of rushing air on his face and heard a hard, splintering thud behind him.

  “That’s far enough, Sheriff,” Emma ordered. She slid another arrow from her quiver and readied the bow as she stepped into the room. “Put the gun down, or the next one’s going to hit square on your jelly stain.”

  Reality shifted and realigned itself as Bruce turned around. Haskin stood just beyond the archway that led to the rest of the house. The revolver that he held in his hand slowly lowered. An arrow vibrated in the wooden door-frame at the level of his ear.

  Chapter 15

  Footsteps, rapid and heavy, approached from the hallway. Seconds later O'Hara appeared beside Haskin and took the gun from his fingers. None too gently, he spun the man around and shoved him face first against the wall. “We caught your bald friend in the lab, Sheriff, but you're both about an hour too late. Good thing we started the party without you, huh?”

  Like a man waking from a nightmare, Bruce shook his head groggily. He focused on his hands. They were trembling. She had done it to him again, had turned him inside out. Amazing, astounding, enigmatic woman. He had an insane urge to laugh. Instead, he walked over to the archway and ran a fingertip along the arrow.

  O'Hara did a brisk search for concealed weapons, then wrenched Haskin’s arms back and snapped a set of handcuffs around his wrists as he read him his rights. “You okay, Prentice?” he asked over the sheriff’s loud protests. “Those idiots from Bangor were supposed to patrol the perimeter but...” His words trailed off when he saw the arrow. His mouth pursed into a low whistle. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  The steel head had bored a hole the diameter of a golf ball through several inches of wood and plaster. Bruce grasped the shaft and tugged, then braced his foot against the doorframe and yanked again, but he could dislodge nothing but a shower of splinters and plaster dust.

  Emma lowered her bow and carefully eased the tension from the string. “I saw Haskin sneaking down the corridor. He was watching you, so he didn’t see me. When he raised his gun, I had a clear shot.”

  “You were aiming at the sheriff,” Bruce said hoarsely.

  “No, I was aiming at the doorframe. I already told you, I always hit what I'm aiming at.”

  Roughly he raked his hands through his hair. Reality was still shifting, reforming into something he’d only dared to dream of. There stood Emma, with the rain a sparkling curtain behind her and her weapon poised to defend him and...she had made her choice. “You were trying to help me, weren’t you? That’s why you brought the bow.” />
  “I didn’t know what I’d find when I got here.” She slipped the second arrow back into her quiver. “I had to bring my bow. I don’t own a gun.”

  Haskin jerked out of O'Hara’s hold and spun to face the room. “Arrest her! She tried to kill me. That’s assault on a police officer.”

  “You're no police officer.” The gravelly voice came from the hallway. Xavier Jones stepped forward and surveyed the scene with a gaze that missed nothing. He gave a start of surprise when he saw Emma. “Miss Duprey!”

  “She’s with us,” Bruce stated. “I'll take care of her. The explanations can wait.”

  Scowling, Xavier glanced at the open terrace doors. “How did she get in?”

  “Probably the same way as Haskin. I told you this operation had gotten too big.”

  Muttering under his breath, Xavier turned his attention back to the sheriff. “It’s convenient you decided to turn up. Saves us having to come after you. We've just gained access to your bank records, and those regular deposits sure aren’t from a sheriff’s salary. How long have you been working for McQuaig?”

  “I don’t know what you're talking about, Jones. You can’t prove anything.”

  Bruce looked at Simon. “Well, Duprey? What'll it be? Are you going to do the time while your friend here goes free?”

  Emma hitched the strap of the bow over her shoulder. “It’s your choice, Simon.” She went to him and grasped his arms. For a moment she was silent, gazing at his handcuffs, but then she sighed and slid her arms around him in a quick, hard hug. “It’s your life. What you do now depends on you. Not me, not our parents, not the past. You say you want your freedom, so try freeing yourself from your hate.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Easy? It’s hard as hell, Simon, believe me. But this is something you have to do on your own.”

  His eyes filled. “I want you to be proud of me. I've always tried so hard, but nothing works out. I didn’t want to get mixed up with McQuaig, but Haskin wouldn’t leave me alone. He got me into that poker game, then when I kept losing he hassled me until I agreed to get involved—”

  “Shut up, Duprey!”

  Simon blinked hard and curled his imprisoned hands into fists as he turned to face the sheriff. “The monthly envelopes you got weren’t enough. You wanted a share of the stuff I was transporting. It’s because of your greed and stupidity that the cops traced us to Bethel Corners.”

  “I said shut up!“

  O'Hara smiled grimly and grasped the sheriff’s elbow. “You know the routine. Let’s go.”

  “I should have shot you when I had the chance, Duprey, you double-crossing piece of sh—”

  “I said, let’s go.” O'Hara emphasized his order with a firm tug that propelled the man down the hall.

  Xavier looked at Simon and motioned after them. “Come with me, Duprey. I've got someone from the Justice Department who will want to hear what you've got to say.”

  Pressing her lips tightly together, Emma touched her fingertips to her brother’s cheek. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “But it’s for your own good. I do love you, Simon.”

  He squared his chin with a hint of his old belligerence and moved away. Without a word or a look in her direction, he walked over to Xavier.

  “Just a minute,” Bruce said before Xavier could leave the room. “There’s one last piece of business I want to take care of.”

  The older policeman scowled. “I already told you, Prentice. I'm not going to accept it, so don’t bother.”

  Bruce reached behind his back and brought out his gun. He turned it over, studying it for a moment as if he didn’t recognize it, then he slapped the weapon into Xavier’s palm. “Take it.”

  “Prentice, don’t.”

  Ignoring the protest, Bruce shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the flat leather folder that held his badge. This time there was no hesitation as he dropped it on top of his gun. “Find someone else to play your games, Xavier.”

  “I'll consider this a leave of absence, not a resignation. Give you time to think about it when your head’s clearer.”

  “It won’t make any difference.”

  Xavier lifted his shoulders in a shrug and stepped into the hall. “We'll see. Being a cop is in your blood, Prentice, just like it’s in mine. You'll be back. Come on, Duprey. Time to get started.” Grasping Simon’s elbow with his free hand, he ushered him toward the back of the house.

  Emma listened until their footsteps faded down the hall. From the depths of the house she heard voices, the ringing of a telephone, doors opening and closing. From behind her came the sound of rain striking the stone terrace, car doors slamming, the crackling static of a radio. Her wet shirt felt clammy, her knees shook. Time had sped up again, and the adrenaline that had brought her this far was finally wearing off. Her brother would be all right now. She had to believe that, just as she had to believe that he would eventually forgive her. As she had already forgiven Bruce.

  Bruce. Across the width of the room she looked at him, noting the lines of strain beside his mouth and the rigid set of his shoulders. She wanted to run to him, throw herself into his arms, kiss those lines from his face.... And yet she stood where she was, her nerves quivering with uncertainty.

  They were alone. Simon was gone, so were McQuaig and his gang. The case that had brought Bruce to Bethel Corners and into her life was resolved. It was over. Finished.

  The tension that still hummed in the air was from something else entirely.

  Was it really over?

  “Why did you do it?” she asked softly.

  “He'll be all right. As long as he cooperates, he'll get fair treatment.”

  “No, I mean, why did you hand in your badge?”

  He rubbed his face with his hands, then looked at her over the tops of his fingers. “Maybe I outgrew it.”

  “But I thought...”

  “That I needed it? That I wanted to live the rest of my life without a real home or anyone who cares whether I live or die? That I want to wake up in the morning and wonder who I'm supposed to be?” He shook his head. “Not anymore. I want a life, not a role, not a masquerade.”

  “There are different kinds of cops, Bruce. You don’t have to stay with Xavier’s undercover operations.”

  “You're trying to talk me out of it, aren’t you?”

  “I guess I am.”

  The lines eased from his face as he smiled wryly. “Have I ever told you that you always manage to surprise me, Emma?”

  “Do I?”

  “I thought you’d be happy to see one less policeman in the world.”

  So did she. “Maybe I outgrew my hate.”

  He began to walk toward her. His stride was long and easy, his body moving with the animal grace that had never failed to evoke a response in her. As it did now. Even with half the police in the state wansdering around the lawn outside the room, and her feelings still churning from the emotional scene with her brother, she couldn’t help the tingling, or the tightening, or the jolt of...rightness.

  “I should thank you,” he said, reaching out to ease the bow from her shoulder. “What you did tonight probably saved my life.”

  “There’s a good possibility Haskin was aiming at Simon.”

  “Somehow I doubt whether he always hits what he’s aiming at.” Bruce moved his hands to her waist and unbuckled her quiver, then undid the strap that held it to her thigh and lowered it to the floor beside her bow. “You're one dangerous woman, Emmaline Cassidy Duprey. I knew it from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Aside from the obvious, such as breaking out of jail, stealing cars, and deciding to crash a police raid with a hunting bow?”

  “Yes, aside from that.”

  A hush fell around them as he slipped out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. His warmth soaked into her chilled form like sudden sunshine. Stepping closer, he cradled her face in his palms. His thumbs gently traced the
contours of her cheekbones, leaving her damp skin tingling with heat. “You make me want to take another chance.”

  She raised her gaze to his face, and her heart leapt. His vivid blue eyes were sparkling with an emotion she’d never thought to find there. Hope—crazy, delicious, irrepressible hope—swelled inside her. For the first time, his gaze was so completely open, so stripped of barriers, she imagined she could see clear to his soul. “What kind of chance?”

  “You, Emma, with your courage, and your generosity and your sense of loyalty, you're the one who’s made me want another chance at life. And a real home. And having someone who cares whether I live or die.”

  The hope turned to promise. To fierce yearning. Holding his gaze, she turned her head to press a kiss to his palm. “Oh, I care, Bruce.”

  “You make me want to risk loving someone. And opening myself up to the risk of losing everything again.”

  Her eyes misted. She slid her hands to his chest and felt the beat of his heart, and remembered the scar on his back. “Our past helped to make us what we are. Knowing that happiness can be taken away doesn’t mean we shouldn’t grasp it. It means we should treasure it.”

  “I don’t want to let this chance slip away, Emma. I don’t want to say goodbye again.”

  “Would it scare you if I told you I loved you?”

  Tipping back his head, he heaved a sudden, unsteady breath. “Oh, Emma.” When he looked at her once more, his expression was intense, strained, a poignant mixture of longing and hope. “It would terrify me if you said you didn’t.”

  Her fingers tightened on his shirt as she lifted her face. “I love you, Bruce. Whatever you do, whatever you look like, wherever you go, I'm still going to love you. I thought I had known what love was, but what I feel for you is so deep, and so rich, and so necessary...I couldn’t stop it, even if I tried.”

  A tremor went through him. With a muffled groan, he brought his mouth to hers in a kiss that unleashed old dreams and desires and made them possible, a kiss that revealed new visions and made them real.